Tout le passé est nécessaire pour aimer le présent.
(The entire past is necessary in order to love the present.)
There is no single narrative to films by Bernardo Bertolucci, none that
follows (or traces) a progressive, chronological line. For the most part, his
films begin in a present already past or a past yet to be, but in dissolution,
a future or a present becoming past, and becoming the past instantly, as
each time is made apparent, and apparent at the same time. Each and
every time contains other times, the multiplicities of time
This book produces an important re-theorisation of the ways gender, time and
Judaism have been considered in late medieval biblical drama. It employs
theories of gender, performance, antisemitism, queer theory and periodisation to
complicate readings of early theatre’s biblical matriarchs and patriarchs. It
argues that the conflicts staged by these plays provide crucial evidence of the
ways late medieval lay producers, performers and audiences were themselves
encouraged to question, experience, manipulate and understand time.
Interrogating medieval models of supersession and typology alongside more
contemporary models of ‘queer’ and topological time, this book charts the
conflicts staged between dramatic personae in plays that represent theological
transitions or ruptures, such as the Incarnation, Flood, Nativity and Bethlehem
slaughter. While these plays reflect a Christian preoccupation with what it
asserted was a ‘superseded’ Jewish past, this book asks how these models are
subverted when placed in dialogue with characters who experience alternative
readings of time.
This article compares the works of James Baldwin and Jean Améry, a
survivor of the Jewish Holocaust. It attempts to unpack the ethical and
political implications of their shared conception of the temporality of trauma.
The experiences of the victim of anti-Semitism and the victim of anti-Black
racism not only parallel one another, but their mutual incapacity to let go of
the injustice of the past also generates a unique ethico-political response. The
backward glance of the victim, the avowed incapacity to heal, as well as the
phantasmatic desire to reverse time all guide this unique response. Instead of
seeking forgiveness for the wrong done and declaring that all forms of
resentment are illegitimate, Baldwin and Améry show us that channeling
the revenge fantasy that so often attends the temporality of trauma is the
material precondition of actually ending that trauma. This ultimately suggests
that, for both thinkers, anything less than a new, revolutionary humanism
equipped with an internationalist political project would betray the
victims’ attempt to win back their dignity.
This book provides the first history of how we have imagined and used time since 1700. It traces the history of the relationship between work and leisure, from the 'leisure preference' of male workers in the eighteenth century, through the increase in working hours in the later eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, to their progressive decline from 1830 to 1970. It examines how trade union action was critical in achieving the decline; how class structured the experience of leisure; how male identity was shaped by both work and leisure; how, in a society that placed high value on work, a 'leisured class' was nevertheless at the apex of political and social power – until it became thought of as 'the idle rich'. Coinciding with the decline in working hours, two further tranches of time were marked out as properly without work: childhood and retirement. By the mid-twentieth century married men had achieved a work- leisure balance. In the 1960s and 1970s it was argued that leisure time would increase at a rapid rate. This false prediction coincided with the entry of married women into the labour market and a halt to the decline in working hours and in sectors of the economy a reversal of it. These two developments radically changed the experience of time and thinking about it. Time became equated with achieving a 'work-life balance' where 'life' was often unpaid childcare and domestic work.
This book explores connections between theatre time, the historical moment, and fictional time. It argues that a crucial characteristic of contemporary British theatre is its preoccupation with instability and danger, and traces images of catastrophe and loss in a wide range of recent plays and productions. The diversity of the texts that are examined is a major strength of the book. In addition to plays by contemporary dramatists, the book analyses staged adaptations of novels, and productions of plays by Euripides, Strindberg and Priestley. A key focus is Stephen Daldry's award-winning revival of Priestley's An Inspector Calls, which is discussed in relation both to other Priestley ‘time’ plays and to Caryl Churchill's apocalyptic Far Away. Lost children are a recurring motif. Bryony Lavery's Frozen, for example, is explored in the context of the Soham murders, which took place while the play was in production at the National Theatre, whilst three virtually simultaneous productions of Euripides' Hecuba are interpreted with regard to the Beslan massacre of schoolchildren.
This book offers the first authoritative guide to assumptions about time in theories of contemporary world politics. It demonstrates how predominant theories of the international or global ‘present’ are affected by temporal assumptions, grounded in western political thought, which fundamentally shape what we can and cannot know about world politics today. In so doing, the book puts into question the ways in which social scientists and normative theorists diagnose ‘our’ post-Cold War times. The first part of the book traces the philosophical roots of assumptions about time in contemporary political and international theory. The second part examines contemporary theories of world politics, including liberal and realist International Relations theories and the work of Habermas, Hardt and Negri, Virilio and Agamben. In each case, it is argued, assumptions about political time ensure the identification of the particular temporality of western experience with the political temporality of the world as such and put the theorist in the unsustainable position of holding the key to the direction of world history. In the final chapter, the book draws on postcolonial and feminist thinking, and the philosophical accounts of political time in the work of Derrida and Deleuze, to develop a new ‘untimely’ way of thinking about time in world politics.
constant flux then we see how it changes its identity over time and consequently has fluid potential, capacities, and indeed uses within its field of cultural production at any given moment.
I would like to begin by thinking about the significance of the line, which both of these graphic art forms, together with writing, have in common. 1 Certainly, the eighteenth-century understanding of the line stresses its protean nature. For instance, we might think about Dr Samuel Johnson’s (1709–84) Dictionary of the English Language first published in 1755
The digital era has brought about huge transformations in the map itself, which
to date have been largely conceptualised in spatial terms. The emergence of
novel objects, forms, processes and approaches in the digital era has, however,
posed a swathe of new, pressing questions about the temporality of digital maps
and contemporary mapping practices, and in spite of its implicit spatiality,
digital mapping is strongly grounded in time. In this peer-reviewed collection
we bring time back into the map, taking up Doreen Massey's critical concern
for 'ongoing stories' in the world, but asking how mapping continues
to wrestle with the difficulty of enrolling time into these narratives, often
seeking to ‘freeze’ and ‘fix’ the world, in lieu of being able to, in some way,
represent, document or capture dynamic phenomena. This collection examines how
these processes are impacted by digital cartographic technologies that,
arguably, have disrupted our understanding of time as much as they have provided
coherence. The book consists of twelve chapters that address different kinds of
digital mapping practice and analyse these in relation to temporality. Cases
discussed range from locative art projects, OpenStreetMap mapping parties,
sensory mapping, Google Street View, visual mapping, smart city dashboards and
crisis mapping. Authors from different disciplinary positions consider how a
temporal lens might focus attention on different aspects of digital mapping.
This kaleidoscopic approach generates a rich plethora for understanding the
temporal modes of digital mapping. The interdisciplinary background of the
authors allows multiple positions to be developed.
EAST TIMOR WAS forcibly incorporated into Indonesia in 1975 and managed, through a confluence of circumstances that was at once remarkable and yet another example of a suppressed people snapping back like bent but unbroken twigs (to use Isaiah Berlin’s phrase), to become independent almost twenty-five years later. Now the territory, poised on the edge of statehood, is undergoing transition, but also flux and confusion. At the time of writing the United Nations Transitional Authority for East Timor (UNTAET) is effectively the Government of
Reading the chapters in this book I was struck by how often issues of time
were critical to the discussions. ‘Time’, of course, is a very complex word
that James Clifford parses with great economy in ‘The Times of the Curator’
(Chapter 7); but I was interested also in the ways in which issues of time
were present as a kind of haunting in the texts assembled here, present (so
to speak) by implication rather than by intent; and sometimes it was the
absence of reflection on time that struck me as another kind of haunting,
as if issues of